


I see you

by Delitheunicorn



Category: Disney - All Media Types, The Black Cauldron (1985), The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle
Genre: Angst, Beauty and the Beast, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dark Romance, Disney crossover, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-21 23:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delitheunicorn/pseuds/Delitheunicorn
Summary: The bringer of life and the king of death, implausible at first, but after a while, their destinies are intertwined.
Relationships: lady amalthea x horned king
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well, I'm back, and I figured if I'm so invested in my crossover couple, it'd be great to promote it to get more fans of it.

Despite his threats, she never flinched.

She did not flinch when the huntsmen first brought her group into the castle, nor when he Gwynaiths hissed at her as she passed them by. And she would not flinch now, not when he held her, digging his broken nails against the cloth over her arm. She seemed bored, rather - unamused by his wrath. Her eyes still held that empty glow, that dead star, that had stalked him since the day her eyes set on his castle. What could she see with them? Could her eyes allow to confront her rightful king eye to eye, hence why he could not make her tremble unlike the rest of her troop? Or could she just see a skeleton, rusted by age, death and cobwebs, and not fear the strung up bones?

She…She knew him. Even years later, in the few dreams his fate could allow him to have, he could touch her, and she would always stare him down with those cold, lilac eyes of her. He would never admit it, but catching a glimpse of them was enough to satisfy his eternal thirst. And in the shadows, in the balancing act between life and death, in their dreams, they were as bare as they came. She saw the man under the skull, and he finally saw her one horn, pale and bright against the decay of his own.


	2. You're not a stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider this a possible BATB AU? I'm gonna write little ficlets before I get a big idea for a big story/ AU. It was nice writing from Amalthea's perspective for once.

She was finally at ease in this castle.

If she had admitted to her soul this statement a few months ago she would’ve rejected it, shrugged it, vanished it; while attempting in vain to ignore her surroundings. It was a tomb, a wake, her burial…

Yet the men, the dragons, the goblins, the orcs, the spiders, the dust, the remains, the skeletons…They all slowly endeared to her. Carved a way into her heart and made her forget her reluctance.

And when he looked at her, from his empty sockets, she saw his eyes. And she could know, at least at this point, that he knew her truth…And stood silently about it. No begging, no revelations, no threat, just a simple nod, and the same disregard for mortality as she had…

Perhaps, maybe, if she could stay a little longer, perhaps she could find a way for him to help her. Perhaps he was the one that could take her to find her path. After all, the lilacs flourishing in the castle turrets contrasted well with the old, decaying stone.


	3. Life and death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the more I write, the more my creative juices flow, so that's good!

She suited amongst nature as much as he suited to the caverns.

But, well, it wasn't a very astute observation. Even the dimmest of his men could recall how much the visitor stood out since the first day that the merry trio arrived at the castle. He could make a case for the clueless magician and the foul cook, but not the lady.

That is, if she was a lady, of course. She thought herself smart, certainly, to perform such a masquerade, but he could see beneath the covers. The way in which she held her breath, how she counted the number of ants walking up the walls of the castle…They all told him the truth.

But it was all in his benefit, of course. Perhaps she could help him with his goals more than any pig, seer or cards could help.

But she would need to confess. He had to be certain before he acted too reckless. And he could never get the genuine truth out of her if her pesky help didn't flutter around her whenever they could, or if she stopped playing the role of silent damsel whenever he was near. Maybe that trick could awe and enchant the men, but it didn’t phase him at all.

Oddly enough, Creeper was the one who suggested his new plan. _Be gentle, sire_. He muttered one night. _For the girl to open to you, she should be able to feel at ease in your presence...More than it is._ Well, sometimes the little beast could offer a nugget of truth.

So, following the creature’s advice, the two ventured into the nearby forest a day afterwards. He mulled over it during the night, at the empty hours after most men laid to sleep, and he guess a stroll through the woods would be good enough for her. The _girl_ was suited more to holding rabbits and wildflowers over bones and swords.

Yet, even as they walked, even as Creeper called for her to be in his presence, she stood ever silent, ever so obedient. _One day she’ll make her lord husband very happy._ But before that, she needed to aid him. Afterwards, maybe he could grant her a gift. Maybe.

So there they are, slowly walking amidst the trees opening at the edge of the forest. The leaves were preparing their flight towards autumn, dangling elegantly in the thinnest branches laid out over the sky; while the grass unfolded bare to await the arrival of winter. Yet the cold breeze only seemed to phase her hair, in that manner in which it tended to dance around her. If the King could take a guess, her face would’ve been molded from ivory. Not a tear, or a smile, ever phased her. Which, the more he thought, he found it oddly soothing. He would’ve preferred in a million years a stern face over a whimpering princess crying about her fears.

Yet, as Creeper implied, she would sooner talk under wildflowers than under drunken lecherous men. So it was just a matter of waiting, he could do that, couldn’t he?

“It is a lovely day.”  
  
“It is, my lord.”

Small chatter, but she would open soon enough. Seeing the leaves and touching the wind would lead to her telling him…What was it, exactly? Plans for the cauldron? How to rise the army of the dead? Beware of any opponents?

“I presume, based on your wear, that from the lands you come from, forests are slightly more…Polished, than they are here.”

“Yes, the grass is always green, and the leaves never fall. But it is quite common, I know.” She paused, lowering her head. “Forgive me, your Grace. You must be so preoccupied with the fight that it would be common to unattend the forests.”

“Yes, that’s true.” So she wasn’t as distracted as he imagined…Wait, a fight? How _much_ did she actually know?

“A fight?”  
  


“Why would you have so many men at your service, when the castle is in disarray? Why would you tame two wild dragons? The skull king, they call you. They’re afraid of you.”

A little obvious, but he could care little of the whispers of the peasants. They lived such small, dull lives; and could leave the world faster than a fly could. Why would an inmortal being like him concern himself, trying to gain the approval of flies?

She kept on, her hair rocking softly back and forth. He wondered if it could shine through the dark.

“I care little about your affair, but at least let the dragons go, let us go as well.”

  
“My Gwynaiths have been with me for a long time. Why should I free them? They’re glad to be in my service.”

He crossed his arms and glanced her down. Her eyes were back at him, but again he saw those green woods reflected in her eyes again. Such lushness…  
  
“You believe that.”

“I don’t need to believe. I see it occur.”

She turned again to stare back at their surroundings.

“That doesn’t answer my second request.”  
  


“I would need the help of a magician in my goals…And of yours.”  
  
“I have no power that you seek.”

“And that is what you believe, my lady…” _If I can even call you that._ He chuckled, the creature veered dangerously close between lying and confessing, and he liked how she believed a little of the two sides, in a way.

And there, at once, they paused, one after another. A rabbit stood laid in the ground, with the shade of a fox's teeth looming over its neck.

The flies surrounding the body gave away to the animal being dead for hours, maybe days. Mayhaps the fox had fled to his burrow after having enough of his lunch.

They paused to observe the open grave, yet her face was as impassive as his was. Based on her delicate stance, he was expecting another reaction, yet hers was…Regretful? Pitiful? Bored, even.

“Maybe we should turn back.”

“It’s a dead rabbit.”

“I know.”

  
She stared back at it, and he stared back at her visage. Disappointment, sure, but not definite. Not disgust, either. In a way, he appreciated her eyes, so rare a color where they to find amidst human eyes…

“It is what it is. Nature, not cruelty. The rabbit wasn’t used by the fox.”

Funny, she seemed more at ease within nature, but the king believed a certain charm of her beauty was more pronounced amidst the insides of the castle. Perhaps age and wear could enhance her features more than any beauty routine. In a way, the animal’s death pronounced her exotic features more prominently. Would he have to butcher a cow in front of her to see the lady upstage Venus herself?

“In nature we need both life and death. Another rabbit, later on in spring, will give birth to kits. And then most of his children will be eaten by other foxes in the winter. And on and on it goes, until the world will end, swallowed by a star. The seasons die and live and repeat until we get dizzy and faint. They’re sisters, holding on to one another.” She paused, and seemed slightly sad then. “I thought you would know all about it, your Grace.”

And now he was confounded. The humans would tremble at his words, at his plans, and would run screaming at the mere thought of the world covered by death…Yet here she was, the envy of fairies herself, yearning for spring, but also admitting his own life…His own state, to both be needed to survive…He never missed life, at least he didn’t believe so, after he came back…Yet, if her words could be believed, she would initially pause at his plans…Yet, yet…Could she accept it?

“Both…”

“You are a skeleton, but you are alive. You are the living image of my words.”

“I’m not a skeleton.” He huffed. He could take many insults, but that one was never one of his favorites. He saw the similarities, if he was strong-armed, but that was one something he could admit in public.

Yet, his anger was small: looking back at her made him think back on her words. She knew what he was, what he truly was, and accepted it, as it was…Perhaps the two of them could live in this balance? It was a little more obvious once he saw the two of them. Could they be the symbols of her philosophy?

And then, an ache within him sprouted out, a mewl; a cry, it called for him to touch her. To be lost in her eyes and doodle in her hair. To be buried finally in the moon sea of her hair… But as he raised his hand, he forced himself to pause, to look back. No, he couldn’t touch her, not yet, not now. He wouldn’t want the foxes in her eyes to snarl at him. She couldn’t allow it, or the world couldn’t allow her.

But if he saw her in his dreams; in the faint, few nights he could dream, that would be enough.

“Let’s go back.”

And with that, they returned in their tracks, to await the same troubles of before at the castle. At least she accepted his guidance.


	4. Scarred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU? Talking with another fan (nebbychan) on tumblr we got the idea of a modern AU and we really liked it.  
> HoKi is named Cornelius here, he's a CEO that's rivals with Haggard, the boss of another powerful company in the city. The two are in a fierce competition because their industries are in a small, competitive field, and Haggard is ruthless. One night, Cornelius ends up with half his face burned due to a "car accident". He survives, but he knows really well who is the culprit in all of this. 
> 
> Amalthea is this mysterious albino woman whom was found one day on the beach, and doesn't recall mostly anything from her life. The scar on her forehead alarms people, yet Cornelius finds commonality with her...

"You're up late."

The words caught him by surprise. The mystery woman always carried an element of awe within her being, shaping herself into the room whenever the man would ponder at the window for a little too long. He had grown too accustomed to the comfort of the street lights and the warmth of the lamp in his desk to get back into healthy sleeping habits, but he guessed he could start any day. A small diet and schedule restructure wouldn’t bring him down.

Regardless, he shrugged off the unexpected bewilderment and stared back at her, nonplused. The manly maroon pajamas didn’t fit her that well, but they would do until the help went shopping.

"It happens often.”

Yes, too many projects and propositions kept him up at night ever since he inherited the company, yet he didn’t mind. He had always been more of a night owl than a early bird.

But the girl…Her paleness yearned for the touch of the sun, but he figured maybe she had spent many a night awake as well, to be so white, and so frail.

Regardless, Cornelius saw to it to approach her. Manners, after all, and she was a lady and his guest. They could whisper many lies about him, but being a bad host would not be one of them.

"Have you been feeling...Comfortable, lately? Have you eaten well?"

She nodded, dozing off.

“Well, I’m not sleeping through the whole day.”

She bumped slightly against the nearby drink table. Ever since she laid foot at his house, she tended to shake every now and then. If he had been told she had just learned to walk two days ago, he would've believed so. But it alarmed him, a little more and she could fall down the stairs.

“You tend to limp a lot.” A small pause would give more gravitas to his sentence. “If this doesn’t get solved, maybe you’ll need to be seen by a doctor over it. That fool’s comment about your scar also didn’t calm me.”

“If you see it necessary…”

“You’re my guest, you need to be in good health.”

She had gotten used to his house, at least. Haggard's help certainly balked initially at his suggestion, but he remembered the uneasiness carved in her eyes whenever at the party or the next meetings. And Haggard’s rotten eyes always leering towards her…No, the blue accountant could complain all he wanted, but she needed to leave.

Maybe that had been too noble an act. What was the girl to him? Well, for now not much, but he would do anything to spit into Haggard’s face, and taking away his guest (or prisoner?) could count as an act of vengeance. Well, he figured, an eye for an eye. Haggard should be glad Cornelius hadn’t thought of slicing his face in half. Or that of his golden boy, either. Which he didn’t like near the girl… _At all._

But for her, it was as if she was passing through different dreams. Haggard one day, Cornelius the other, even Lir…They were just shadows to her, it seemed. She could smile and utter a few words, but they didn’t last in her mind. Maybe if went to sleep again, she would forget about it.

"I've stopped sleeping for too long, I suppose that’s good.”

“It’s very good.”

She got nearer to him, at which he took a step backwards. Her messy albino hair, her pale eyes…He liked observing her, but there came a time where her stare could send shivers down his spine, and recall something…Something, amidst the heat and the flames…

Funny, he wanted to forget while she tried to remember…It would be funny if it wasn’t so traumatic. He grinned nervously, and ventured towards the glass of whiskey, but she caught sight of it.

“Sire? Are you alright?”

He didn’t reply at first, preferring to focus on the drink. Forget the pain, forget the hate, forget the doubts…

…That was better. Perhaps if he took a few more cups, the past would be more bearable. Even if the doctor told him that wasn’t recommendable,

And now, her eyes were inspecting every inch of him, from his hair to his bare toes. He appreciated that at least she dedicated as much time to observe his toes as she did his scars.

“You’ll be happier here. Not with him, nearby.”

He hoped she knew who she was referring to. _She had to_. She nodded, but he knew that wasn’t enough for Amalthea. Something was missing, something chipped at her, for she paused for a moment.

“If you say so…But I miss Molly.”

“If you want me to take her for my help, I could do that.”

Knowing the feisty cook, she would cry out at him, but on the other hand, based on the woman’s backhanded comments and sneers, she wasn’t fond of her boss either. Maybe working under a different rich bastard could make her change her tune, who knows.

“Your house is smaller, warmer…Yet I still doubt you.”

He grunted. Yes, she could doubt, he couldn’t deny that, and if the girl went on a wild search, her doubts would be answered…But thankfully him and Creeper would’ve done enough to keep the old stories locked in the vault. Luckily, he didn’t need a drink to forget about that. Mallory’s face appeared in mid air as his mind went by furiously, and he drank another shot to forget her. It would be easy, as Amalthea (goodness, he still didn’t understand what was up with that name) was as different as Mallory could be; small and pale against dark and tall, loud versus vulnerable, lean against curvy…Yet, a soft-spoken, elegant presence carried the two women wherever they went. With just the tapping of their feet, they could make heads turn in the room. And Cornelius had…No, he had to stop thinking like that. It had finished, and he needed to move on.

“Doubt if you will, but Haggard wouldn’t have been a helpful host. Worse, I think. At least my house isn’t in disarray.”

_And I don’t leave women at the altar._ After he heard the news, he wondered how much did Lir truly love that girl to ditch her so casually like that. His own fiancée! Or how much he supposedly cared for Amalthea, for that had been his “excuse”. And nobody thought it strange? No, no, Cornelius did good in taking her away before nasty rumors began to spread about her.

She was observing him again, much like she would view an engaging tv show, and he was still lost in his anger and regret. Yet her next words made him throw his glass to the floor.

"Sir, if I may...How did you get your scars?"

Broken glass, liquid courage splattered all over the ground. Later nights he would recall on the nerve, and how stupid and unprepared he had reacted towards that. Yet, yet, he still wanted to initially avoid it.

“It’s not important.”

He rushed, attempting to get out of the room. A mop, a mop, if not the shards of glass would pierce their skins…But she barely flinched.

“Half of your face is red.”

He stopped, knowing it would barely affect her if there were shards or not. Her curiosity was more demanding than the danger of cut feet.

"An accident."

No, it was a poor excuse, but did he really want to add more?

"I don't...Remember much."

Fantastic. A little bit more, and he’d be groveling at her feet.

Her eyes diverted from him onto the global orb in his desk, slightly laying a finger on the ocean. She seemed satisfied with his short answers. _Or maybe she believed she could solve this pattern, shape this puzzle…_

"It's similar to my scar."

Well, that was a good diversion. Perhaps it would do better to talk about her past than dig up his.

It wasn’t similar, as much, considering her scar had gracefully attempted to form a mark in her forehead, while his burns had pretty much overtaken half of his face. Yet, he did find it curious how the two of them got to the same point; they had been marked. By the same figure? Lately coincidences couldn’t stop happening, so at this point, anything was possible.

"Yes, yes it is.”

“What do you remember of your scar? …Do you remember, at all?”

She wasn’t offended by his questions. She seemed curious, more like. Struggling to recall, which slightly bothered him. Could she forget more pressing matters in the future, as when discussing with him? Could she forget her name? In a way, he envied her. He wished to have forgotten large part of his life in the last year. Poison it, drown it, delete it…But the nails on the wall of his mind refused to fall.

“Feelings, more likely. Sensations. A big shadow over me, and then…Pain, a lot of pain.”  
  


She walked casually towards the window and stared back at the lights. Lightly, and then her gaze went from him to the window, back and forth, until she settled happily on the window as her viewing partner.

“What I really remember well is Molly and Schmendrick bringing me home.”

Was that all that there was to the story? The longing in her voice recalled to him the feelings she might have felt for her saviors. And well, why shouldn’t she? She had been born that day on the shore, with the playing both parents and midwives to her bare figure. Half a girl, half a corpse, half a goddess rising amidst the foam and the spray; Venus herself would’ve been proud of such an entrance.

“Will I see them again?”

“…If that is your wish. But I’d rather not go into that mansion ever again, if I could. And neither should you.”  
  
“…We met there.”

That was true. But, again, he felt like he was repeating himself. A little bit more of herself she extended towards that house, the more she presented her weak spots for the pythons to bite on.

But now, something was different in her words. There was a “we” in her mind. He was beginning to take a form aside from the snippy host and the angry guest in Haggard’s castle. No, but he had to see it as it was. Her eyes still shone for Lir, who had made a spectacle of himself in order to “win her over”. Did it work? The poor deluded fool surely thought so.

He sighed, passing a hand over his bloodshot eyes. The hours will be piling up upon them at this point, and soon sleep would take away all the strange and lacking comments they delivered throughout the night. And then, her hair would just be another memory, another dream that he would cherish, instead of the fire, Mallory running away, or the dark man lowering his fist towards him. Nononononono, he didn’t need any of that. Just her presence would be enough for now.

He raised a hand towards her, shockingly. What was he doing? She would rush, she would reject it, as much as when others attempted to. She would give her back in return, if he was reckless. She would touch the burnt hand and he’d bite his tongue in pain. What seized him to act so carelessly? Maybe it was lack of sleep, or the memories threatening to emerge again, or even his slight, drunk curiosity, who trembled at the thought of her cotton pale cheek softening at his own corpse of a hand…

And yet...Her eyes closed with the softness of a cat, nuzzling against his hand. She shivered at first, once his hand got close to her, but then, her body softened, and her eyes accepted for him to place the hand…It had burnt marks, and he couldn’t feel the last two fingers, but her soft reaction towards him was enough to make him cowl before her. She…She didn’t mind. She didn’t mind it at all. She wouldn’t scream, she wouldn’t gag…The “we” mattered now. The small talk, the acceptance into his house…She had gladly reacted to all of these, why wouldn’t she to these marks of his? As she said, not so different. Her hair shone, the ice braided into it making it resemble a star, and the loose strands and split ends tugging softly at his sleeves. She reminded him of so many different animals, imagery and dreams; and the night, though cold and tired, for a few miliseconds resembled the stuffy, hot night when their eyes first joined.

To touch her like this, to caress her, without fear of ever breaking her spirit or her bond, of holding peace and calm within each other…Let the world and its nonsense pass them by, as long as they could keep the couch for the two of them…

But as quick as a snap, it was over. His hand, terrified, rushed back towards his side, and like an upset child, she opened her lavender eyes, and the weight of the world fell upon them. Cornelius could suddenly count the bags under her eyes, and he guessed he wasn’t looking so respectable either.

“Let’s all go to sleep. It’s late.”

She nodded, and gave him another quick adored glance before he hovered a hand over her back.

“Tomorrow I’ll help you with your scar, I have some camouflage makeup that may come in hand.”

He figured it’d do her well, but nothing could assure him she wouldn’t pick at it.

“…Thank you, sir.”

Oh, he hadn’t noticed that.

“…Just call me Cornelius.”

And she smiled. She smiled! It was like seeing her eyes for the first time all over again. Ridiculous, the bitter side of him thought, to act like a schoolgirl with a crush…But her closeness made spring able to sprout inside of him again. What was it? Life, new life within him? With just her presence? It could be magic, for all he knew.

And she would get back her memories, even if that meant he would get in hot water again, with the same old bastard. Well, not like it mattered; he already passed through hell, and laughed it off. He could do it two, ten, a hundred times! He had nothing to lose, but to aid her…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On theunicornandtheking, the ship's tumblr blog (hi yes promotion), we liked the ending of the two bonding and him telling her his real name.

Echoes. That was the only sound that was allowed to replicate in the decaying castle, distorted copies of other noises: small chatter, water drops…Always subdued, always imitating, never individual, never alive.

Well, he shouldn’t complain too much. He was glad that at least, he had a new castle of his own back. And a small army that could obey to his every whim, just as long as he provided them food and shelter. Small menial tasks, truly. He could do that. Anything was better than rotting away in the dusk of death and ruins.

And there was a sight that could certainly change his plans for the day. His precious new guest. Peculiar, more than precious. Again, he found roaming the halls mindlessly, as she tended to do. Searching for…For…For something meaningless, he supposed.

“Good day, my lady.”

She paused, trembling. Clearly, she didn’t note of his presence. He would find it insulting if not for her childlike guilt.

“Your Grace…” Startled, she turned towards him and saluted him rigidly with a bow. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I didn’t see you there.”

It was no matter, but at least he could appreciate how she still respected his authority. Even when her noisy magician and cook had cried out the day his guards brought them to the castle, she just drifted along.

“You’re up again.”

“I like walking the hallways.”

There was a pause there. He clicked his teeth; he disliked pauses.

“Searching for something…”

She moved towards the left wall of the hallway and placed a hand softly over it, as if yearning for a window.

“Your home is so far from the sea…”

“The sea is of no matter to me. I can live in a cave for all I care.”

“Yes, the castle is enough proof of that.”

Was she…Was she mocking him? Could she dare to do that?

“Why would you find yourself so invested in the sea?”

“I like to look at it.”

“Well, forgive me if the castle is not to your liking.”

She turned again, shaking her head. Now he had an angle from which to watch her beautiful lavender glance. Did…Did he just think that?

“No, forgive me, your Grace, for such intrusive words. Your home is fit to your liking.”

Well, she could be forgiven. Any mortal could commit little mistakes.

“I’m running out of time. If I don’t manage to acquire all of my tools again to gain ownership…”

“It’s short. Time always feels shorter than usual.”

“And humans live through it so casually…”

A silence occurred between the two of them. Could it be? The more he felt her presence near her, the more the Horned King could sense something amiss within her. Just a spot under her eye, or a hair strand out of frame…But there was a little aspect that disrupted the picture of perfection.

“Everything dies, at different times. Some have life more than others, but they all end the same.”

“Not me. I would never allow it.”

The girl paused, waving her white waves around, to observe him closely. Something he did admit he liked of her was how she never trembled when seeing him. Startled, yes, but never fear.

“Can…Can you live forever?”

“My face is proof enough of that.”

“So you’ve seen most of the world, travelled through it, sensed the magic…”

“…A little bit, yes.”

“A little bit…That’s enough.”

He did not want to remember, but flashes came back and forth in his mind. Her words…And there he was again, a faint, weak figure, innocent and idealistic, and how that determination brought him the first time towards the cauldron, and how…Oh, that first burn and stretch still echoed in his mind.

Could she…Could she refer to that, or something beyond that? Was she really just another mortal, or something else…Much like him?

“Sometimes men don’t understand how important time is, and how you need it…But sometimes it seems they’re just in love with the time given to them, and the people and memories they associate with them. Sometimes it feels like what you’re attempting to do your Grace, harness their precious moments so that they never go away…”

No, she didn’t care for humans either, that was obvious, but the slight hint of…endearance, if he could say so, for the creatures. Love, perhaps? Empathy? Caringness? Regardless, it was obvious to him now: she wasn’t human, yet had a history with them.

Much like him, much to his chagrin.

But, she is the only one who could maybe understand.

“It doesn’t matter. Time passes by so quickly for them…Forgive me, Your Grace. I shall leave you to your bidding”

And just as she turned around the corner…

“It’s Cornelius.”

She paused, reflecting on his words, but not looking back at him. It had been such a long time he had heard that name uttered, it felt alien; almost like it belonged to somebody else. Another man, maybe, one who died honorably in the battlefield.

“That’s my name.”

Another pause, she seemed lost in her thoughts, attempting to connect and make sense of the name given to her.

“It is a good name.”

Very simple words, but they echoed back inside him. She did like it, she did not sound bored of it, like she did with her simple, empty courtesies…She liked it! Perhaps, if he talked more to her, perhaps he could salvage more genuine sentiments aside from banality…

But he would prefer that only she would know of Cornelius. His tomb would be passed on to her, and no one else. It made sense, from a corpse to a newborn fae.

“Don’t…Don’t tell anyone.”

She seemed secure at that, at least. Her eyes turned again towards him, and he saw it, the way he had many nights ago: those old foxes playing in the forest inside her purple view. A dream, probably.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

There, there was nothing else to add, little else to say, but they held each other even higher than before now, it seemed.

“Goodnight, my King…Cornelius.”

“….Goodnight.”


	6. Random musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really take this in consideration, a lot of this stuff is old and unplanned, but I kept it around just for sake...Well then, time for it to spring up.

“Ooh, you are beautiful, indeed...Beautiful and lively…Truly a sight to behold, a goddess…”

She narrowed her eyes as the wind rolling over her neck licked it bare, freezing it. The nights were getting colder, yet she believed him to be unfazed by the weather.

“You stay, my sweet…” The King cooed as a rusty hand traced a line over her hair.

“As your prisoner?”

“No, more as a...guest. My castle is your domain, you are allowed to roam wherever you wish...As long as you do not leave the grounds.”

You do not need to lie, my lord. A prisoner does not need a synonym.

“An abandoned, broken place.”

His eyes narrowed at her figure and her thoughtless tongue, but he said naught.

“That and more.” He prayed, and repeated; while dry, rusted teeth landed over her ivory palm, and he savored her taste.

“I shall await you at nightfall, my lady.”

And he left, a withered shadow lounging on the corners of the walls. She stared at his figure until he completely vanished from the room, and then she gave herself to the darkness.

–

She guessed surely somebody must have jumped before, and their corpse laid awaiting in the moat. Something resembling mockery rose from her chest and filled her heart with comfort.

–

“My lady, you must go…”

“No.” She pressed the furs closer to her chest; where a heavy feeling in her heart laid, one mostly resembling shame.

“H-he ordered, if you don't follow his orders…”

“He will not touch me.” - Her voice glinted with dust. - “He promised me.”

–

She raised the spoon to her lips and left it hovering over the air, just a kiss away from her mouth.

“I'm not hungry.” She dropped down the spoon

She simply turned her head away and crossed her arms over her chest. He sighed exasperated.

“Why, just why do you do this!?”

She slightly cocked her head at him.

“I...Want you to be my wife. I want you to accompany me as my queen while I rule.”

“I'm not sure

–

“He does not have flesh, or if he does, there's very little of it. What does he want from me? He cannot possibly conceive children…”

Creeper shuddered in his spot at her words

“B-but, no, my lady, he wants you here because he knows...The dangers out there...It would be in his best interests to keep you safe.”

–

“You cannot kiss.” She murmured as the breeze flapped his cape.

“It's true, I cannot. I can only use my teeth in such ways.”

“What do you want from me, Your Grace? We cannot conceive children…”

A word of hers caught his attention.

““We”?”

“You cannot have heirs, am I right?”

“...Yes.”

“Then what is my purpose here. What do I get out of being your queen?”

She was no princess, there was no throne with her name awaiting her and no lands to own, so she wandered what could he get out of marrying her.

“You're beautiful, and I admire your stance, your posture...Your presence…”

“I need your power.” - His voice dropped. - “Don't think I don't know. It's easy to spot.”

“I would never let a unicorn pass by so nonchalantly.”

_There's your truth_ ; she thought calmly. It's not love or lust, it's about a cage.

–

“So I'm just a trophy.”

“The idea of showing you off to the other villains, and to present you as the most beautiful bride...Does have its allure.”

–

He passed a hand over her face, and left his rotten fingers on her cheek for a few seconds, concentrated on the subject. He grunted as he lifted the hand and her head dropped down.

He quickly rose from the mattress and walked towards the blinding light of the door, leaving her behind between the sheets and the forgotten.

_And here's your leash_. She sighed as he closed the door, locking her inside.

–

His Grace seemed troubled as he left the room

“B-but sire, maybe, if you want her to react to you you should be more…”

“More what.” He spat bored.

“More...charming…?” He cowered as the king raised a fist at the goblin's face.

“And you expect me to carry her flowers to her dormitory and lay a rotten carcass at her feet. How gallant.”

Was that a joke?

–

_Humans are so rotten_...Yet, to be able to touch her face again, and feel her skin...And feel a tingle...Yet it was fruitless.

His teeth were rusty and old, and tasted of ashes and lead. But her lips were plump and soft, and asked for him to chew on…

–

“Please, my lady, let us help you.” The boy offered her a hand, and she took it. She would not refuse his office, especially such a pitiful one.

The blonde girl cried in surprise as they turned towards the left.

“The castle's about to collapse!”

–

“You look different.”

A glance at his newfound dark locks and fresh healthy skin told her enough. Living, bright brown eyes looked back at hers, feeding comfort into her own

“Yes, it is quite a stark contrast, but do not fret, my lady; for I am still your ruler and your lover underneath.”

She looked down at his feet when he uttered the last part of that sentence.

_Did I ever come to love him?_


End file.
